


Love?Struck

by elenajames



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Background Relationships, Love Darts, M/M, Mating Rituals, Weird Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: It’s obvious that Ivan’s interested in mating him, making slow circles around Shayne on the ice during practice and warmups.





	Love?Struck

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my bullshit. You can read about love darts [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_dart). Obviously, not 100% accurate, but the idea was interesting to me, so here we are.

Ivan presses up against Shayne, the contact lingering, and Claude raises an eyebrow at Shayne as Ivan slips away. 

 

“Shut up,” Shayne grumbles, flinging a sweaty towel at his captain. Claude just laughs and keeps changing out of his gear, leaving Shayne to deal with his blush and the stir of interest between his legs. 

 

* * *

 

It’s obvious that Ivan’s interested in mating him, making slow circles around Shayne on the ice during practice and warmups. Shayne tries to play hard to get, knowing that they’re still too far away from their bye week to fully entertain the advances, but Ivan seems a bit downtrodden after a couple of days. Only when Claude is starting act like he’s going to intervene by nudging another mating partner Ivan’s away, Shayne hooks Ivan with his stick and draws him in close. They’re face to face for a moment, visors touching until Shayne gets called for drills. 

 

“Just don’t miss a game, or Hak will have your asses,” Claude warns as he skates up next to them. “We’re almost to break, you can make it ‘til then.” Ivan goes red but nods anyway, Shayne following suit. Still, he can feel the weight of Ivan’s eyes tracking his movement across the ice when he gets called up for drills, and he knows that waiting is going to be easier said than done. 

 

It figures, of course, that Ivan and Shayne would set off the other guys. Gudas starts pursuing a confused and somewhat timid Travis Sanheim, Claude finds TK and Nolan cuddling in Nolan’s hotel bed, and Scotty and Raff are nearly inseparable, even at the rink. There’s a little grumbling and showboating here and there until Gudas nearly takes out Robert during practice for being too close to Sanny and Hak bag skates them until they’re practically crawling off the ice. 

 

“Get it together. Two more days, then we’ll be at the bye.” Hak eyes them all until they acquiesce. The game itself is fine, Shayne thinks. They manage to eke out a win, and media passes by in a blur. Before Shayne knows it, he’s pinned up against the wall in the showers, Ivan using every bit of his slight height advantage to keep him there. 

 

“Go on. Do it,” Shayne breathes. Their mouths are a hairsbreadth apart, and the moment Ivan’s dart pierces Shayne’s abdomen, that distance closes so Ivan can swallow his shout. “Mother  _ fuck _ .” 

 

Ivan’s panting and decent enough to look apologetic as he pulls back. “Sorry.” 

 

“No, you’re not.” Shayne’s already hot, the throb around the dart spreading through his body until he’s thrumming. “Shit. Can you drive?” 

 

“Yeah. Your place or mine?” 

 

“Yours.” Shayne fumbles through getting dressed, gingerly avoiding the dart protruding from his body as he does so. He’s not the only one - he definitely catches a glimpse of Gudas hustling Sanny out the door - and he’s grateful that the bulk of his coat hides the slight protrusion of the dart without jostling it much as he walks to Ivan’s car. 

 

Ivan’s careful navigating the streets of Philly, eyes drifting to Shayne only when they’re waiting at a light or stop sign. He eases them into a parking spot when they reach his building and gently bustles Shayne toward the elevator. They’re lucky enough not to run into anyone on the way up, and Ivan manages to get the door open with only a couple of tries despite the eager trembling of his hands. 

 

Shrugging off his coat, Shayne lets Ivan take it as he toes off his shoes. He’s been to Ivan’s apartment once or twice, but he still allows Ivan to guide him back toward the bedroom. Shayne is appreciative of how careful Ivan is in undressing him, willingly lifting his arms and gingerly stepping out of his pants and boxers, only hissing a little as the dart impaling him shifts slightly. 

 

“Sorry,” Ivan murmurs. Shayne doesn’t retort this time; instead, he lets Ivan kiss him softly for a moment before pulling away to pad toward the bed. He gets comfortable among the blankets while Ivan strips himself; Shayne shows off a little, arching his back and spreading his legs, even though Ivan’s interest in him is guaranteed at this point. It’s still thrilling to watch Ivan stumble a little as he tries to get out of his pants, distracted by the sight of Shayne in his bed, waiting to be mated. 

 

Ivan is more careful as he climbs up the bed, settling between Shayne’s spread legs and bracing himself up on one arm to keep his body from inadvertently touching the dart. He steals another brief kiss before working his way down Shayne’s body, dropping kisses and possessive bites here and there, groaning aloud when Shayne slides a hand into his hair and tugs. Tightening his fist, Shayne stills Ivan’s movements, listening to him pant and feeling the warm gusts of breath along his skin until Ivan finally whines low in his throat. 

 

“Shayne. Please?” A damp kiss gets pressed to his chest. “I’ll do it right. I promise.” Ivan stays still but for the kiss, waiting Shayne out. Shayne’s not sure what shifts, but his hand unclenches and Ivan continues on his way down. 

 

He skirts Shayne’s cock and the slit just above, empty in the absence of his own dart, not yet reformed after his mating with Claude last year. Instead, he settles low, kissing lightly at Shayne’s balls until Shayne huffs at him in impatience. His tongue seeks behind, lapping slowly lower and deeper, Ivan guiding Shayne’s hips up to give him room to work. It’s embarrassing, how quickly Ivan coaxes slick from him, his body opening right up to his intended mate’s ministrations. 

 

Ivan’s mouth is pink and shiny with wetness when he sits up, eyes dark with intent as he refits himself between Shayne’s thighs. The thrum running through Shayne has ramped back up, and he welcomes Ivan back to him, heedless now of the softening dart as Ivan lines up and thrusts inside him. He presses close, grinding deep and fucking Shayne in greedy grinds. There’s no finesse - never is, the first go round with a new mate - and Shayne bares his neck for Ivan to bite, giving himself over to the possession. It works when Ivan lengthens his thrusts, at least trying to make it better for Shayne than the shallow, unsatisfying movements before. Still, Shayne isn’t going to come like this; he resigns himself to it, letting the base pleasure of the mating wash over him, knowing that he’ll be able to hold it over Ivan later and Ivan - driven by instinct - will more than make up for it. 

 

Ivan comes with a breathless curse, dropping his face into the crook of Shayne’s neck, his hips hitching so he’s buried as deep as possible. Shayne nuzzles at him, wrapping his legs around Ivan’s waist to hold him there as Ivan spills inside him. A few moments pass as Ivan comes down, and some of the breeding drive fades from Shayne as his body is soothed by the first load of sperm. It’ll be back soon enough, but in the meantime - 

 

“Shit. You didn’t - I’m sorry.” Ivan means the apology this time, looking a bit embarrassed that Shayne’s cock is still very much hard between them. Gripping Ivan by the hair, Shayne pulls him into a rough kiss, the edge to it all his own and he smiles when Ivan melts into it. 

 

“Make it up to me then.” He wishes, then, that his dart had been ready for this round; Ivan goes down on him readily, and Shayne knows he’d be just as eager a mate with roles reversed.  _ Next time, _ he thinks to himself, rocking up into hot-wet softness of Ivan’s mouth. 


End file.
